


The boy who always carried an umbrella

by icecreamsuki



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:44:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamsuki/pseuds/icecreamsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy who always carried an umbrella was the subject of gossip of the student body. And Aiba, being Aiba, was intrigued and curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The boy who always carried an umbrella

“Have you heard of the boy who always carried an umbrella?” I heard a classmate excitedly say as I dropped my bag on the side of the desk, just in time for the first period in the morning, just in the nick of time. It was Monday morning, and with the relatively boring weekend past them, my classmates were thrilled to gather once again and share whatever gossip they had with each other.  
  
My ears immediately perked up at the interesting piece of news, though. A boy who always carried an umbrella? It sounded like a fairy tale, similar to a princess who was orphaned at birth, or siblings who were oppressed by an evil witch. A boy who always carried an umbrella. It sounded like a recipe for a melancholic drama featuring a lonely desolate boy in search for something greater than life. My imagination ran in overdrive, and as I entertained these thoughts, I realized that the chance to hear the rest of the story about the boy had passed. I didn’t mind. I was determined to figure it out on my own. It was a mystery, and I was determined to unveil it in my own terms.  
  
It was spring. The sun was serving its purpose in the sky by providing enough heat to keep us warm amidst the cold spring breeze fanned by the foliage of the shrubs and trees. The sun was not at its zenith – not enough to warrant an umbrella, but there  _he_  was. It was the first time I spotted him – from our classroom in the second floor. It was the boy who always carried an umbrella. I knew it was him right away because, well, he was carrying an umbrella. Besides, my other classmates started talking about him, pointing out of the window towards the field.  
  
Gossips usually meant no harm amongst high school students of our school. Gossips exist for the sole purpose of keeping their mundane lives more interesting. Thankfully, bullying was not rampant in our school. Otherwise, I was sure, without a fraction of a doubt that he would be the object of ruthless bullying. What with that tucked-in shirt, high waist pants and lopsided round glasses. I mean, who wears round glasses these days anyway? Only Harry Potter does! He’s Harry Potter for crying out loud; he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort! He’s too cool. Wearing round glasses won’t make him uncool. But that’s another story.  
  
Going back, I didn’t care much about gossip about the boy who always carried an umbrella. I’d rather form my  _own_  opinion of someone and not let my mind be addled by unjustified rumors. Turning my back from the windowsill, I walked back to my chair to finish my lunch. As I munched on my ebi tempura – which was as good as batter tempura considering the size of the shrimp, but it tasted good nevertheless – I had a good feeling I’ll see the boy who always carried an umbrella once again.  
  
-  
  
5 PM signalled baseball practice, 5 days a week. What better way to spend high school than to pour one’s youthful energy and passion on a sport that binds people together? That may be a rather over-the-top way of putting it but that was really how I felt. Just as I was aimlessly swinging the bat in circles with my right hand on my way to the field, I once again spotted the boy who always carried an umbrella sitting on the first row of the bleachers. He had a faraway stare so I took the opportunity to watch him closely without him noticing me. His umbrella was navy blue – a rather ordinary somber color if you ask me. If I would bring an umbrella to school, I would choose a foldable one so I could keep it in my bag or in my locker if I didn’t need it. I would choose one with bright colors to brighten up my mood – perhaps yellow, green, sky blue, purple, or even rainbow colored ones. I saw one of those rainbow-colored umbrellas being dragged by a child once in the mall. As if a reflex reaction, I unconsciously smiled upon seeing that umbrella.  
  
And that’s when it hit me: I never really saw him smile yet. Him. The boy who always carried an umbrella. This was probably understandable since it was only the second time I’ve seen him and we haven’t even talked yet. And suddenly the urge to strike up a conversation with him got stronger and stronger, but then a whistle came. And I knew I had to focus back on the game. Throughout the game, the thought didn’t leave me. Perhaps if he owned a rainbow-colored umbrella he would smile.  
  
I cast one last glance at him before dashing to the dugout. I couldn’t properly make out his face amidst the oange emanated by the setting sun. Perhaps not.  
  
-  
  
The practice ended and the team was restless, eager to make a race towards the shower stalls to get rid of the sweat and sand stuck on their skin and clothes. I didn’t mind being the last to shower. I was told by my parents when I was young to rest my body first after playing before taking a shower. I carried that practice ever since. So while my teammates were itching to leave the field as our coach was giving out some last minute reminders, I was drilling the bat on the ground and leaned on it, placing my weight on it. Perhaps I could drill a hole in the ground considering the length of our coach’s dragging pep talk.   
  
That was when it hit me: the baseball bat can be used as a cane, just as an umbrella can be used as a cane.  
  
There is a saying that when you intentionally look for something (or someone for this matter) you don’t find it (or him), but when you are not looking for it (or him) anymore, that is when it (or he) appears. I didn’t believe that saying. I think that when you look for someone – as in really look for him – you will find him. Which was why I was incredibly pleased with myself when I found the boy who always carried an umbrella there by the swing in the playground in the corner of our school.  
  
The boy was sitting on it and, well, swinging. I inspected his legs while he was swinging forwards and backwards, with my head following the motion. Forwards and backwards. Forwards and backwards  as my head was swinging left to right. There seemed nothing wrong with his legs but I couldn't be sure if he didn't stand up. A part of me wanted to give him a strong push at the back - to bring his swing higher forward and higher backward. I was already stepping forward but I held back. Freeze! I forced myself to freeze in that position - right foot forward and left foot back - while waiting for the swing to slow down and stop. My objective for this mission was to inspect his legs, not to play with him. When the swing stopped swinging, I unfroze my feet and ran to him hurriedly.   
  
"Are you hurt?" I asked. Worry must be evident on my face. The boy just gave me a quizzical look.   
It was the first time I saw the boy who always carried an umbrella up close. Unfortunately, at that time he wasn't carrying an umbrella, which was actually a logical thing for why would anyone carry an umbrella while riding the swing?  
  
I pointed at his legs to direct the point and asked again, "Are you hurt?"   
  
The boy tilted his head to the side, lower lip jutting out and eyes shining with innocent confusion. Apparently, he didn’t understand what I was talking about. Feeling helpless, I looked around and spotted his umbrella leaning against the metal of the monkey bars.  
  
As I held it, he stood up, protectiveness and worry evident in his stance. I realized I should be more careful with my actions. I hurriedly walked back towards him, bringing the umbrella with me, “I thought perhaps your leg was hurt, so you were carrying the umbrella with you all the time as a makeshift cane,” I mumbled, looking at him apologetically.  
  
The boy chuckled. I knew it was a chuckle because of the slight shaking of the shoulders, but no sound came from his lips, only a wide grin.  
  
He jumped in place, once, twice, crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at me smugly. I knew it was meant to be an answer to my question whether his legs hurt, but it was a totally strange way to answer a simple question. The usual response was a shaking of the head or a simple ‘no.’ And the fact that he was smug about his answer just added more strangeness points to him.  
  
But I happen to like strange. I find strange people far more interesting than others, far more exciting to be with.  
  
Just when I thought I was able to monopolize his attention, a clear voice of a woman came, “Kazu!”  
  
The boy before me immediately perked up and turned his head to the source of the voice. Following his lead, I turned my head as well and found a lady in her twenties wearing a simple powder blue blouse and a long skirt. The orange of the setting sun gave color to her features in contrast to the paleness of the boy standing before me.  
  
The boy suddenly disappeared before me without as much as a goodbye. The next thing I knew, the boy’s right hand was held by the lady, and in his left hand was the umbrella I was holding just seconds ago.  
  
He had the swiftness of a vampire, which I couldn’t really verify since I haven’t even met a vampire in real life. It was just a gossip I picked up from the girls in school. I wouldn’t know. Weren’t vampires supposed to suck the blood out of people? Since when did they become ninja-like characters who sparkle under the sun? But that’s a totally different story.  
  
Going back, he wasn’t the boy who always carried an umbrella anymore. He had a name. An identity.  
  
Kazu.  
  
-  
  
The next day, I had a clear destination in mind after baseball practice. Instead of the shower room and lockers, I sprinted to the playground area, which was a rather strange destination for a male high school student like me, but I had a clear purpose for going there. As I heard the sound of metal creaking, as I saw the distinct motion of the swing – like a pendulum, like a charm for hypnosis – I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed.  
  
Unlike yesterday, this time I brought a bat and a ball with me. I didn’t know if the boy who – alright,  _Kazu_. It was a force of habit to call him the boy who always carried an umbrella, but since I already knew his name, I could call him by his proper name now.  
  
I didn’t know if Kazu liked baseball, but since he watched one of our practice sessions, he must like the sport, right? And if not, I knew I could convince him. My convincing powers were superb. At least that was what my family and friends thought so.  
  
“Let’s play baseball,” I approached him perhaps a bit too suddenly for he was still in the air swinging forwards and backwards, apparently with no intention to stop despite my sudden disturbance of his peace.  
  
As the swinging came to a stop and he had his full attention on me, I repeated, “Let’s play baseball!” stupidly showing the ball and bat I had in my hands. Yes, I knew I may appear rather stupid but the boy who – I mean, Kazu – he seemed rather spaced out if I didn’t simplify the conversation.  
  
After examining my face and staring at what I had in my hands, he gave me a soft chuckle once again. Scratch that – it wasn’t soft. It was soundless. It was strange. I found it strange that he replied to me through demonstrations and facial expressions, and never did he utter a single word. Perhaps there was a curse from an evil witch that kept him from talking.  
  
I took his hand and placed the ball on it. He looked at it closely, swirling it as he studied the pattern. In the blink of an eye, there was a blur of a ball flying towards my shoulder. Thankfully, my reflexes were well practiced and caught the ball in time.  
  
I stared at him wide-eyed as he chuckled once again. He was quick! He could be a really good pitcher if he trained. “You should join our team!” I told him in excitement and delight at a newfound talented player.  
  
He quietly walked to the monkey bars and retrieved his umbrella. He turned it upside down in such a way that the handle was touching the ground. Keeping his elbow straight as held the umbrella near the tip, he parted his feet and gave a smug smirk at me. He slowly swung the umbrella on his left shoulder, similar to a batter in preparation but a bit different. And then the swing came. There was no denying the swiftness, a loud _swish_  piercing through the air. Only, the other end of the umbrella touched the ground and not at the level of the chest like in baseball.  
  
“Golf?” I uttered after carefully watching his movements. And I realized that he did it again. He was answering my question – or this time my invitation – with a demonstration rather that a shaking of the head or a simple ‘no.’ And I couldn’t help but find it strange.  
  
Just as I was about to ask him why he didn’t just answer me normally, there came a voice of a lady once again just like the day prior, and Kazu was instantly gone.  
  
The same thing happened for the rest of the week: me going to the playground after baseball practice disturbing his peaceful swinging alone and him answering me in his own strange ways. Come Wednesday, I brought food – hamburger sandwich, something easy to eat and something I much-deserved after an exhausting practice session. I bought two during lunch time in anticipation of my little rendezvous with Kazu in the afternoon, and boy, did he not disappoint. He heartily indulged himself on the burger; it was as if I was watching a commercial for McDonald’s or something. Considering his petite figure, I never would have guessed that he had a huge appetite. Or perhaps I was just lucky to pick his favourite dish. Who doesn’t like hamburger anyway?  
  
By Thursday, I realized it was better if I didn’t ask him questions since he wasn’t answering me normally anyway. I took the liberty to share him stories as we shared a bag of chips. I talked about baseball, my family, my senpai who was good with basically everything, the little puppy I adopted from the streets, the pretty cashier at the school cafeteria – anything. And he didn’t seem to mind. He was quiet all throughout my monolog. I would have thought he disappeared by my side once again if not for the telltale sound of crispy chips being eaten. Still, I glanced at him once in a while to make sure he was still there.  
  
On Friday, it was the same routine: me talking, him listening and both of us eating. And when the lady came to fetch him, it was the first time he waved goodbye in my direction. It was taken aback to suddenly witness a normal human gesture from him. Before I was able to compose myself and return the wave, his back was already turned.  
  
I couldn’t help but be disappointed by the fact that I wouldn’t be able to talk to him over the weekend, even though it was mostly me who did the talking.  
  
-  
  
Monday, the start of the week, signalled a new round of gossip. When I listened closely, I found out that things were getting more and more bizarre. Gossip still revolved around the boy who always carried an umbrella – that he was constantly carrying an umbrella so that when it rains, he could share his umbrella with someone and make friends with that person.  
  
It was a rather sad, angsty story. Kazu didn’t seem to be that melancholic to me. He might be mostly alone and quiet despite my company, but he didn’t strike me as a melancholic fellow. And I knew I couldn’t answer him a question as personal as that or he would just return further in his own little shell. Although a part of me was rather curious for the answer especially the strange way he would give it, if he would give any answer at all.  
  
It was curious that as the rumors around campus centered on a boy carrying an umbrella, it started to rain mercilessly come lunch time. The raindrops were angled by the forthcoming wind in such a way that they reach the inside our classroom through the windows. As we hastily closed the windows, I noticed how dark the rain clouds were. It was basically gray outside.  
  
My thoughts drifted to Kazu. What was he doing? Was he out in the field just like when I first saw him that lunch time a week ago?  
  
Somehow, I felt reassured that he was safe. After all, he was always carrying an umbrella to keep him dry. Looking out the window, I started to chuckle. A chuckle.  
  
A quiet, soundless chuckle. I sprinted to the cafeteria, struck by the need to buy two hamburger sandwiches.  
  
As expected, baseball practice was cancelled that day since the field was soaked, and we wouldn’t want any accidents or injuries to the players. By sunset, though, the rain had let up.  
  
Knowing that the practice was cancelled, I had every intention to go home. I dragged my rainbow-colored umbrella behind me, letting the tip scrape on the ground.  
  
For some vague reason, I was feeling restless and unsettled. It was as if I was missing something. As I was about to reach the school gates I glanced back and found a trail – a line left on the rain-drenched soil after the tip of my umbrella scraped through it.  
  
A line. Made by the tip of my umbrella.  
  
My shivering, trembling shoulders reminded me of a quiet, soundless chuckle.  
  
Quiet. Soundless.  
  
I sprinted to the playground, our little rendezvous, careful with my stride lest I slip on the soft, rain-drenched ground, a plastic bag of hamburger sandwiches in one hand.  
  
As I neared the playground, I couldn’t sense the distinct sound of metal creaking, no pendulous motion of the swing. There was only stillness. Quiet. Soundless.  
  
Kazu was nowhere in sight and neither was the umbrella.  
  
The merciless rain from earlier was but a mere drizzle. I could hear the squish of my shoes on the soil with each step. I looked down and that was when I noticed an inscription on the soil. The thickness of the letters was akin to that of the tip of an umbrella.  
  
“Thank you for listening to me.”  
  
I found the message ironic if it really came from Kazu, since he barely said a word to me. He  _never_ said anything. However, I had a strong gut feeling that the message was directed to me.  
  
“Aiba-kun,” I turned around and found our baseball coach steadily walking towards me. Wearing his good old jerseys, he steadily walked towards me and sat on the swing – Kazu’s usual seat. Gradually, I heard it once again – the distinct sound of metal creaking.  
  
I stared at the writing on the ground.  _Thank you for listening to me._  Who was listening to whom? Wasn’t I the one giving a monolog and wasn’t he the one listening? Or was he teasing me with this remark for my talkativeness? I could almost see his smug smile, with arms crossed in front of his chest.  
  
“Thank you for befriending him. I appreciate it,” Coach said as he drew the swing to a stop. I stared at him, trying to figure out what he was saying.  
  
“Kazu,” he simply said. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”  
  
I didn’t answer. I took my usual seat on the other swing and handed Coach the other hamburger sandwich as I ate the other one, less heartily unlike the first time since I didn’t have Kazu to share it with.  
  
“Hamburger. It’s his favourite. He told me you shared it with him,” the Coach said as he grazed the tip of his shoes on the soil, making random scribbles. He must have noticed I was eyeing his curiously so he added, “Well, he wrote it on paper and showed it to me. He was pretty excited about it.”  
  
“I don’t get it,” I said as I continued to stare at the message on the ground, the hamburger laid neglected on my hands. “ _Thank you for listening to me_ … I –” I felt totally confused, and frustrated with my confusion.  
  
“But you listened,” Coach offered kindly. “You listened to his presence. You listened to his strange gestures. You listened to his quiet chuckle.” There was a certain wistfulness in his eyes that signified nostalgia. “And you are here now,” he said as he squeezed my shoulders as if we were in a baseball match once again.  
  
I sighed, not one of those frustrated sighs I usually did during baseball practice or matches. It was a sigh with a hint of contentment, a hint of nostalgia, a hint of longing.  
  
He took my hand and placed a card on it. “He’d be happy to see you again,” he supplied as he turned to leave.  
  
Flipping the card over, I realized the Coach’s purpose for our little chat. “I’d make it a point to bring hamburger sandwich!” I called out at his retreating figure. “And an umbrella of course!”  
  
The drizzle had stopped but the soil was still moist.  
  
I wrote out my reply to Kazu’s message using the tip of my rainbow-colored umbrella. As soon as I was satisfied, I headed out to the gates, clutching the card wherein my next destination was written.  
  
Under the previous inscription was a new message.  
  
 _“No… thank you!” _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the readers understood Nino's condition.. :)


End file.
